


our circumstances are storm clouds

by anorchidisnotaflower



Category: Fargo (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Canon-Typical Violence, M/M, Mutual Pining, One Shot, Post s4e07, Season/Series 04
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-09
Updated: 2020-11-09
Packaged: 2021-03-09 08:27:54
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,239
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27467962
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/anorchidisnotaflower/pseuds/anorchidisnotaflower
Summary: Deafy’s about to ask why, about to poke into things like he always does, when the circumstances of the day catch up on him like rubble falling from the ceiling. It’s sudden, the way his heart thuds in his chest, as though to remind him he has one.The walls are closing in on "Deafy" Wickware and Odis Weff alike, and yet they keep coming back to each other.
Relationships: Dick "Deafy" Wickware/Odis Weff
Comments: 8
Kudos: 18





	our circumstances are storm clouds

**Author's Note:**

> So long story short, I wrote this during the week before 4x08 aired. I wanted to post it before the episode went live, but I wasn't able to get it published in time. And now... well. I wanted to post it anyway.

“I want you,” Loy Cannon says, “to make sure that train station blows up tonight.”

Odis Weff blinks, tapping quick on his coat. “What? There’s— there’s other people there—”

“Then get ‘em out.” Loy shrugs, turning away to lean forward on his knees.

Odis glances between him and Opal, who’s lounging against the far wall like he doesn’t hear a word they’re saying. The dingy light in the locker room is doing them no favors, casting strange shadows on the wall that make Odis tap faster, blink more often.

“So you’re… planting explosives?” Odis dares to ask.

“Did I tell you you could ask questions?” Loy says, not bothering to look Odis’ way.

Odis sighs. “No, but I don’t think your instructions were very clear.”

“Then let me clarify.” Loy stands up, looming over Odis in one smooth motion. “You’re going to tell anyone you have to where those broads are and when. Then, you get the hell out of dodge.”

Odis barely manages to nod. “I— I thought with me covering my ears—”

“Just for show.” Loy snaps his fingers. “Make sure you tell that cowboy cop who’s been hanging around. He’s the one that’s after ‘em, yeah?”

Odis looks down. “Well, yes, but he was— I was assigned to work with him.”

“Great.” Loy looks over at Opal, and whatever look they give one another, Opal pushes off the wall to stand at Loy’s side.

“Great?” Odis looks between them.

Loy nods. “Gets him out of your hair, doesn’t it?”

With that, Loy and Opal walk to the door. Odis taps, fast, not even feeling it, before he stands up, clutching his coat in his hands.

“Wait,” Odis says.

It’s the wrong thing to say, but Loy and Opal turn to look anyway, one of Loy’s eyebrows raised in a question.

“Are… are we through after this?” Odis asks. “I look away from this station and, what, we’re done?”

Loy stares at him for a moment before he starts to chuckle. Opal joins in, and soon, raucous laughter bounces around the room, making Odis flinch.

“No, Odis,” Loy says, spelling it out as though for a child. “We’re not. Now, don’t forget. They’ll be there at ten o’clock sharp. Philly.”

And then they’re gone, leaving Odis alone in the dank, darkening room, chanting as quietly as he can.

* * *

Dick “Deafy” Wickware has had a long day. One of the longest in recent memory, and he’ll be darned if he isn’t going to take a breather before he has to deal with everything else he senses is in store.

The local police station has been kind enough to let him in— or, well, not kind. Deafy has a knack for forcing his way in, and the least these Kansas City cops have done is leave him be while he grabs the occasional glass of water and kicks his feet up.

He’s planning his next moves, feet on Odis’ desk, when the man himself appears in the office doorway, knocking away.

Deafy eyes Odis as he walks in, hat askew and coat rumpled. If their meeting earlier rattled Odis, well, then, good. It’s what he rightly deserves for his two-timing.

Odis stalks over to Deafy, his eyes flicking up to meet Deafy’s before skittering away again. “I, uh…”

Deafy raises an eyebrow.

Odis clears his throat. “I have some news. Some you might want to hear.”

“I’m all ears,” Deafy says, keeping his tone carefully calm.

“Those broads you were looking for,” Odis starts, but Deafy notices his hand tapping away, that pattern of five. “They’re heading to the station tonight.”

“Here?” Deafy frowns.

“No, no, the train station,” Odis says. “I think the train to Philadelphia.”

Deafy leans back in his chair, rubbing his ring finger. “How’d you get this information? One of your contacts?”

“Shut up and take a hint,” Odis snaps, still not looking him in the eye. “I gave you what you wanted, all right?”

“Why now?” Deafy asks. He swings his feet off the desk, standing up to his full height. Without his hat or his coat on, Deafy notices all the ways Odis and he are similar, height and build not too far off. But Odis’ head is bowed, his fingers still flickering away.

“I just…” Odis trails off.

“Look at me?” Deafy says. He doesn’t mean it to come out like a question.

Odis listens, anyway, glancing up to meet Deafy’s look. There’s that _thing_ there again, the one Deafy saw earlier during their little sparring match outside the Cannons’. The little dead light in Odis’ eyes, the almost-fear, the hesitation in every word. It’s all hidden there, if only Deafy could find the right way to unlock it.

“I asked you a question,” Deafy says, his voice quiet under the murmur of officers around them. “Why tell me this now, after everything today?”

Odis doesn’t back down. He meets Deafy’s curious look with a challenge of his own, straightening his shoulders, and now Deafy truly remembers that they’re the same height.

“It’s the decent thing to do,” Odis says.

Deafy searches his face for something, any clue to spell out a deception, a twitch of an eye or the tiniest swallow. But Odis is either a damn fine actor or he’s telling the most honest truth he has.

“All right then,” Deafy smiles, clapping Odis on the shoulder. He flinches, but that’s par for the course.

Deafy grabs his coat from the back of the chair, slinging in on before picking up his hat. Odis watches it all, oddly still.

“You coming with?” Deafy asks. “Need to visit Cannon and see if this info of yours checks out.”

Odis shakes his head. “Not your partner. Remember?”

Deafy pauses, hat in his hands. “Sure seemed like we were making reparations.”

“I’m just lending a hand,” Odis laughs, but it’s thin.

Deafy tilts his head. “You sure?”

“Yeah. You go ahead.”

Deafy nods and dons his hat. He heads for the door without another word when Odis stops him with a hand on his arm. Deafy stares down at it, remembering every little flinch Odis gave, his hesitance, and he wonders.

“Be careful,” Odis says, voice hushed even in the din of the office.

Deafy meets his wide eyes and grins. “I’ll do my best.”

“I’m serious.” Odis shakes Deafy’s arm, tightens his grip. “Just… whatever happens.”

“I’ll be fine, Palomino,” Deafy says, finding the courage to pat Odis’ hand.

He doesn’t flinch away this time.

“I’ll call you when I get back.” Deafy leans forward, just a bit. “All right? We’re not partners, sure. But maybe you can lend one of those helping hands again.”

Odis almost smiles, a little tug at the corner of his mouth that Deafy’s eyes fixate on. “Get out of here.”

“Will do.”

Odis lets go, and Deafy, ever the charmer, tips his hat with a wink. He leaves before he can spot Odis’ reaction, but Deafy can feel his eyes on his back the whole way out, the warmth of his hand still stuck to his arm like a glove.

* * *

Odis should leave. All his worldly possessions are in the trunk, and he could just leave now. Get out of dodge while he still can, drive away now that the deed is done and his hands are relatively untied.

But standing in the station lot, the sky above him starting to fade to dark, all Odis can think about is tonight. It isn’t his concern, really, those fugitives aren’t his, but — and there’s always a “but” — Deafy would no doubt drag the rest of the station in with him. And where would Odis be, but gone, spirited away before anyone noticed.

They’d be bound to notice once the whole station was killed, though.

“One little, two little, three little Indians,” Odis chants, soft, staring at his car door. “Four little, five little, six little Indians.”

It’s not his case, Odis keeps reminding himself, it’s not his case, but damn it if Deafy wasn’t a self-righteous bastard who was going to get himself killed.

“Seven little, eight little, nine little Indians,” Odis whispers, desperation laced in every word. “Ten little Indian boys.”

He slams one hand on the car door, cursing, before he spins, marching back to the station.

“One little, two little, three little Indians,” he mutters, walking in the front door. The noise hits him first— every officer and their mother must have come out tonight, jamming each corridor and stairwell.

Odis shoves through the crowd down the hallway, still chanting under his breath: “Four little, five little, six little Indians. Seven little, eight little, nine little Indians.”

At the end of the hall, the detectives’ office door is wide open, men storming in and out with guns in hand or pulling on uniforms. In the middle of that sea, that endless current, there’s one brown cowboy hat Odis can spot poking up.

“You all know where to go,” Deafy is saying, his voice carrying above the noise. Something unwinds in Odis, something small, at the sound.

“Ten little Indian boys,” Odis whispers. He shoves through to the front, but Deafy doesn’t see him, turned to talk to Captain Hanhuck. Deafy’s still wearing that huge jacket of his, and there’s a glimmer in his grin. Maybe it’s the way the station lights bounce off it.

“Hey,” Odis says, always at a loss for words.

Deafy turns almost immediately, his eyes lighting up when he sees Odis. “Hey, Palomino! Decided to join us for the raid?”

Odis flinches as an officer pushes past him. “Sort of. Yeah.”

“Great,” Deafy says, and he actually sounds enthusiastic. “You can ride with me, then. The rest of ‘em can follow behind.”

Odis just nods, glancing around at the crowd. “I take it the meeting with Cannon went well?”

“I’ll tell you about it on the way,” Deafy says, turning to the captain. “We’re moving.”

Deafy walks to the door, slinging an arm around Odis as he goes and pulling him after him. The current in the crowd shifts, officers following behind them as the noise amps up, buzzing in anticipation. Odis has no time to mind the hand on his shoulder as they walk out the building to Deafy’s car, or maybe he doesn’t mind at all.

Deafy pats Odis once before letting go, and Odis almost wants him to stay there for a moment if it means this raid won’t happen, this night won’t end in bloodshed.

“You coming?” Deafy asks, and Odis blinks. He didn’t even notice Deafy was already in the car, looking up at him with an expectant brow raised.

“Yeah,” Odis huffs, knocking on the door five times, quick. He barely shuts the door behind him when Deafy starts the car and revs off, taking the turn out of the lot a bit too hard.

“I will say this. Our man Cannon was not pleased about my little visit,” Deafy says.

Odis glances over, watching the streetlamps cast warped shadows on Deafy’s face. “He threatened you?”

“And then some,” Deafy chuckles. “But I had my piece. That got him talking.”

“You pulled a gun on him?”

“Wasn’t planning on firing it,” Deafy says. “But it worked. Cannon told our cons no harm would come to them. Sent them away for their own protection.”

Odis nods, but he taps his fingers on the seat. “Makes sense.”

“Does it?” Deafy glances over, and his eyes are more piercing in the dark. “Seems odd to me that a man like him would care about two women he’d never met before, as far as we know.”

Odis can only shrug. “I couldn’t tell you. Maybe he figured we’d find them and take them in. Off his hands.”

Deafy hums. “Could be. But something stinks to high heaven about this whole thing.”

“Then why are you going in tonight?” Odis dares to ask.

“They’re my cons, detective,” Deafy says. “If it were your case, you’d do whatever it takes, right?”

The answer to that, Odis knows, isn’t yes.

“Yeah,” Odis says anyway. “I would. Or I’d at least try.”

“You still have some decency,” Deafy smiles.

“You still on about earlier?” Odis sighs, turning away. The train station is coming up on their left, looming large down the next few blocks.

“Well, I’d prefer it if you didn’t lie to me about your allegiances.”

“I wasn’t—” Odis taps, fast and scattered. “That doesn’t concern you.”

“Your bent logic will be your downfall, Odis,” Deafy says, pulling up next to the station. “Faddas or Cannons?”

“What?” Odis feels like the eyes of the world are on him, or at least the eyes of whatever God Deafy believes in.

Deafy stops the car, looking over. “I asked a simple question, and I’d like a simple answer.”

Odis chants under his breath before he speaks up again. “You’re asking for something I can’t give.”

“And why is that?”

“Don’t you have a raid to get to, deacon?” Odis asks, spitting the words. He’s had more than enough one-on-one time with Deafy for the rest of his life, and at this rate, Deafy might as well go on into that station and take whatever fate he’s giving himself.

Deafy just smiles, that slow climb up his face that Odis can’t look away from. “Sure. Wait here.”

Odis frowns. “I thought—”

“You thought we’d storm in, guns blazing?” Deafy asks, his smile turning cold. “No can do, Palomino. Like you said, we’re through.”

Odis can’t think of anything to say, and by the time he does, Deafy is already out of the car, ducking down to stare at Odis one last time.

“Don’t bother following,” Deafy says. “You can’t help me anymore.”

The door slams and Odis jumps, breathing harsh and fast as he watches Deafy walk inside, lost in a swarm of police.

“Shit,” Odis mutters. “One little, two little, three little Indians…”

He gasps a breath, closing his eyes tight. Already his eyes are stinging, fingers drumming furious on the dashboard as he tries to recenter, to wait this night out and let it all end.

But Odis’ mind is so _good_ at fixating, at churning up the same images over and over and spiraling him down into the mess. His thoughts are a jumble of images and sounds, new faces mixed with old and above it all, the weight of all those lives on his shoulders, his coworkers and neighbors and that damn marshal.

“Go!” Odis yells, surprising himself. He has to snap out of it, he has to do something, anything. Deafy’s awful smile, the tip of his hat, it’s all there at the forefront of Odis’ mind and he can’t just sit here and let Deafy die.

Odis slams his hand on the dash, yelling again. “Go, go, go, go!”

And finally, his body listens. He clicks the door lock, onetwothreefourfive, and he’s out of the car, gun in hand, sprinting toward the entrance to Union Station.

But the second Odis arrives at the doors, they burst open, people running out, handbags and briefcases flying every which way. He can hear women screaming— men, too, everyone running past him and shoving him out of the way.

It’s a nightmare. Odis has to fight every flinch, every involuntary jump when someone’s hands land on him, someone’s body checking his own and forcing him back. No one even notices the gun in his hand.

Odis mutters, soft, chanting to himself, and finally raises his voice above the din: “Police! Move!”

The crowd doesn’t quite part, people still running out, but he forces his way through, gritting his teeth. “Police! Out of the way!”

He finally manages his way to the door, waving his gun when he has to, and breaks through, the crowd thin and almost gone inside the station.

The first thing Odis registers are the suitcases strewn all over the ground. It’s like they’re lost, carts and bags abandoned, upturned and out of place. Union Station is emptier than he’s ever seen it, and standing in the middle, atop one of the benches, are Swanee and Zelmare, guns in their hands and pointed right at Deafy.

Odis keeps his eyes fixed on Deafy— he has his hands up and out, and his gun is on the floor in front of him. That gun in Zelmare’s hands is aimed toward Deafy’s chest, and there are officers all around the edge of the station, and somehow, somehow, they haven’t noticed Odis yet.

Odis has no idea what he’s doing until he does, firing his gun at Zelmare.

The shot pings off her gun, wildly big as it is, and forces her back, her arms wheeling. Swanee moves in to catch her and Deafy turns, locking eyes with Odis across the station.

Move, Odis tries to say. Move. Please.

Deafy might nod, but it’s so slight, Odis almost misses it.

Then Deafy is running off to the left, diving for cover behind a bench, and Odis is running after him, but he’s too far away, and Zelmare has righted herself, and the cops start to stream in behind the women, and Swanee is yelling something, and there’s a duffel bag just a few feet away Odis didn’t notice until now, and he watches a shot hit the bag and the floor tilts and everything, everything goes up and dark.

* * *

Deafy wakes up, not unlike a gas stove turning on— slowly, with a few clicks to get it right. There’s something digging into his side, making it hard to breathe, and it’s dark. It wasn’t dark a moment ago. Was it a moment?

He struggles to suck in a breath, coughing when all he gets is dust. Deafy tries to shift and pain spikes through him, his ribs throbbing.

“Hot biscuits,” he mutters. There’s something pressing down on him, something dark, and even though his eyes are open he can’t see anything in front of him.

Deafy sighs, focusing on breathing. His ears are ringing, a quiet whine. There’s something underneath it— sirens, maybe.

He’s not sure how long he waits— could be a few minutes, maybe an hour. But the ringing dies down, and finally, Deafy hears a shuffling above him. Scraping, like someone’s digging with desperate hands.

And then, a voice he would recognize anywhere, one he only now realizes he missed.

“Deafy?”

Deafy coughs, tries to clear his throat. “Odis?”

“I hear you,” Odis calls, and he sounds so muffled. “I’m getting you out.”

“Copy that,” Deafy calls back, but his voice sounds weak to his own ears.

“I’m moving as fast as I can,” Odis says. The scraping sound gets a little louder, a little closer, and a lot faster.

It’s a few minutes more before light breaks in, making Deafy squint. Rubble falls out of view, and in that little window, Odis’ face appears, gray with ash.

“Shit,” Odis breathes. “You all right?”

Deafy has to laugh, and it comes out like a wheeze. “No. Thought you were getting me out.”

Odis blinks, and then he’s gone again, shoving aside more blocks of concrete and wood. Deafy has to admit it’s impressive— all those pieces around him are heavy.

With one final push, Deafy feels the world open up a bit, his side no longer pinched. Before he can move, Odis is at his side, gently taking Deafy’s hand in his and placing his other hand underneath Deafy’s back.

“We’re going to move in five. Ready?” Odis says.

Deafy nods, winces. “Ready.”

“One, two, three, four, five,” Odis counts, and then with one pull, Deafy is sitting up, his ribs crying out.

“Son of a _gun_ ,” Deafy curses, gripping tight to Odis’ hand.

Odis’ eyes scan up and down Deafy’s body, narrowing in on his chest. “Ribs?”

“How’d you know?”

“Lucky guess,” Odis smiles, and it’s the first time Deafy has ever seen it. It looks so bright in his dusty face, surrounded on all sides by flickering lights, dangling loose and empty from the ceiling far above.

Deafy stares. He can’t help it.

Odis frowns. “You think you can stand?”

“Oh.” Deafy looks down, slow this time, and his neck doesn’t twinge. He’s covered in soot, his brown coat turned gray and strange, but there are no large patches of blood he can spot.

“Think I’m just bruised,” Deafy says, looking back up. “You?”

Odis shrugs, but Deafy notices the barely-there wince. “Couple scratches. I’ll live.”

Deafy grins. “We both will. As long as we get outta here.”

Odis chuckles, looking down. “All right. Up we go.”

Deafy waits until Odis’ count of five, and he slowly stands up, his legs almost buckling underneath him. Odis is right there to catch him, though, leaning in, and God above, Odis has eyes you could fall into if you let yourself.

Odis tugs at Deafy’s hand, and for a moment, it looks like Odis is going to let go. Deafy squeezes his hand.

“Don’t let me go just yet, Palomino,” Deafy says, his voice soft.

Odis’ eyes meet his. “Wouldn’t dream of it.”

They walk around the rubble one step at a time, Odis’ hand in Deafy’s, his other hand warm and true on Deafy’s back. The middle of the station is practically a crater— benches split into threes and fours, pillars turned to dust, shredded fabric dangling from concrete edges.

Deafy looks around, trying to discern meaning in the chaos.

“If you’re trying to find your suspects, don’t bother,” Odis says. “If they’re still here, they’re buried. And if they’re not, they’ve run off.”

“You didn’t find ‘em?” Deafy asks.

Odis shakes his head. “I woke up and went to find you. Didn’t really think about them.”

Something sharp twists in Deafy’s chest, and he knows it isn’t an injury. “Oh.”

They make their way out what used to be the door, Odis helping Deafy scramble over the piles of rubble. The more Deafy walks, the easier it gets, but he still clings to Odis like a lifeline, unwilling to give him up now that he has him right there.

The outside of the station is as much a mess as the inside: police cars everywhere, people crowding the edges of the steps, sirens wailing and officers running about. No one even registers Deafy and Odis, busy as they are running in and out.

Odis silently leads Deafy to the car, still parked right outside. It’s a miracle it’s intact, really.

Deafy slumps down in his seat, breathing out slow, and Odis climbs in beside him, doing much the same. They’re quiet, watching the proceedings outside.

“Can we go somewhere else?” Odis asks, his voice small.

“Sure thing.” Deafy starts the car and drives out at a crawl, navigating through the crowds. They manage to break through, and Deafy drives block after block, not sure where they’re going until he’s pulling into the parking lot of Odis’ apartment building.

“Home again,” Odis mutters. It’s incurably bitter.

Deafy’s about to ask why, about to poke into things like he always does, when the circumstances of the day catch up on him like rubble falling from the ceiling. It’s sudden, the way his heart thuds in his chest, as though to remind him he has one.

“Odis,” Deafy starts. “I’m not angry at you.”

Odis snorts. “Could’ve fooled me.”

“I’m angry,” Deafy continues, “that you lied to me.”

He turns to look, and Odis is already looking back. He’s so fragile in this light, the dust and grime and hints of blood on his face rendering him drawn and awful. And yet his eyes still capture Deafy, draw him in as easily as they did the first day they met.

“I never meant to lie to you,” Odis says. It’s the biggest admission Deafy has ever heard— likely the biggest admission Odis has ever given.

Deafy waits, knowing there’s more.

“I just…” Odis takes in a breath. “I didn’t know how not to. I’ve been lying to everyone my whole life and—”

He cuts himself off, his next breath hoarse. Deafy watches Odis shrink in on himself, closing his eyes tight, his fingers still tapping away, much slower now.

“Odis?” Deafy says, not knowing what he’s asking until he does. “Can I hug you?”

Odis takes a few more breaths, the air rattling in his chest, but he nods.

Slowly, ever so carefully, Deafy slides across the car, his arms out. He drapes them around Odis like a blanket, pulling him in, and Odis stiffens.

Deafy almost lets go. Almost.

But selfishness is his favorite sin, and he rubs both hands, soft and even, up and down Odis’ back. Deafy waits, waits, and Odis finally relaxes, turning into Deafy’s hold to wrap his arms around him in turn.

It’s when Odis buries his face in the crook of Deafy’s shoulder that everything in Deafy’s heart unspools, the thread wound so tight now loose and fraying in the wind. Odis smells like smoke and soot and soap, and Deafy can’t stop breathing him in, the warmth of him intoxicating.

Deafy has always known what heaven will be like, but this is the holiest this life on Earth has ever gotten.

They don’t let go. Not for a while. And when they do, Odis smiles, that tentative old thing, and Deafy smiles back, wide and unapologetic.

Odis invites him up. Deafy says yes.

And the door shuts behind them, soft and silent.


End file.
